Target Practice
by gethsemane342
Summary: I dreamt of being a hero. I did not know then that dreams are just that. Dreams.' The story of one soldier who fights for the crown in the final uprising of Trickster's Queen.


Disclaimer: I do not own Tamora Pierce's books.

Target Practice

Of course I had ideals about equality once. Everyone did. Once. I do not think that there is a single child who did not once think that we should be equal.

The difference between me and these rebels is that my family drummed into me what the raka did to us. They emphasised pride. They stopped me from speaking to them in the streets. And, gradually, I took on the beliefs expected of me. How could I not?

I often dreamed of being a soldier. I couldn't be a knight- I wasn't a noble- but the King's Guard was a tempting idea. I dreamt of being a hero. Of riding through the streets, bearing justice and righteousness, saving people and defeating the bad guys. Of becoming a captain. Of being famous. Of having all the boys shake my hand and all the girls swoon over me.

I did not know then that dreams are just that. Dreams. Not reality, not anything real. Just a figment of my sorry imagination.

I went into the King's Guard but a nobleman spotted me one day and offered me a job as one of his soldiers. It was an offer I couldn't refuse. Good pay, good hours and the chance to fight- he was strongly loyal to the Crown and we were sometimes sent to help out the King's Guard when things got too bad. I enjoyed it there.

The one thing that I couldn't forget was when we journeyed to a rice farm and I saw an overseer beat a raka man- not even a man, just a scrap of a thing- just for looking at him. It shocked me to my very core. I didn't feel that anyone deserved that, not even the raka.

I told some of the lads later about my disgust. To my surprise, instead of siding with me, Joret, my best friend, took me to one side.

"Zanek, that's just the way it is. The raka dog knows how to act. He's a persistent offender. I heard the overseer saying."

"But he was beaten so badly." I protested.

Joret shrugged. "That's his fault. You can't change it."

No one listened to me and eventually, I got used to it. Sort of. I don't suppose anyone can get used to something like that but you get used to the idea. And I found that it was much less distressing if I volunteered to guard the side which was not facing the punishment.

Bad things started to happen in Rajmuat. The Regents became more and more nervous and set stricter laws. And, as such a devoted servant to the crown, my Lord asked us to help enforce those laws. My already cracked dream shattered.

Riding into groups of people just because there are more than ten of them isn't noble. It's horrible. Slashing down defenceless people does not make me a hero. Telling them to move does not make me loved. I thought that the Regents had a good reason- with all the assassinations and uprisings- but I still wished that I didn't have to do it. I considered giving my job up.

I wasn't the only one. Joret and a few of the others constantly talked about the Regents and what a bad job they were doing. They didn't trust them after the death of his Majesty, King Dunevon. I agreed with them at first. Until I found out.

My older brother had been my hero when I was younger. He was smart, funny…all the things I wasn't. He always had time for me. Unlike me, he had no sympathy for the raka and was fiercely loyal to the crown. He didn't like to fight. So he became a footman.

He never told us that he had become a spy. I don't know when he did it. I don't know if he was forced into it as I heard some people were. I loved him too much to care about his abilities at spying or whatever. He had a wife and daughter and the whole family made me feel welcome when I came to visit. My niece loved her Uncle Zanek but not as much as she loved her father.

I wonder if those rebels thought about his little girl when they killed him and stuck a note saying _Spy_ to his chest. I wonder if they thought about his family. I wonder if they laughed about his death. One less opponent, right? He's not a person. He's a target. Just something to practice on.

Suddenly, my beliefs changed. I sided with the new monarchs. Where once I may have sided with the raka, I swore that I never would. Not until my brother was avenged. I said as much to my squad. They said nothing.

When a huge rebellion began, my Lord got us up and told us to defend the palace. And so we went and waited. We saw the Crown's soldiers fall but still we waited. When some rebels, headed by a young luarin girl arrived, I got ready to fight. I dodged as arrows flew into my friends.

This is what I think about as I start to draw my sword. This is the point I'm at now. The turning point.

This girl shouts at us all to stop and we turn. She asks us whether we want to stay with the Rittevons. Three of my squad- Ranu, Kired and Sadaj- have also lost family to these people and raise their weapons. They are shot. Mindlessly. Needlessly. They are nothing but targets to these people. No, not people. People would feel remorse. Looking at their faces, I know that they feel none. They think that we are _mindless_, unfeeling, just like they thought my brother was. I feel myself growing angry.

Suddenly, Sergeant Gallaw puts his sword down. He's giving in. He wants to help these murderers! My anger boils over and before I know what I am doing, I lunge at him with my sword. I will _never_ let these killers win.

Joret and Wellim grab me and wrestle me to the floor. I spit at them.

"Sorry Zanek," Joret whispers as he holds his sword above me, "but they're better than Rubinyan and Imajane. They can win. They can free us."

I don't want them to win. Has he forgotten my brother? Joret's met him. He liked him. He sat with me when I heard the news and we talked about his life for the whole night. How can he dismiss him so quickly?

Before I can ask him, he lunges downwards with his sword, and it goes into me. I gasp silently as I feel my life leaving me. Through dimming eyes, I see my squad…my friends…my killers, put their weapons down.

I only have time for one more thought. I am just one more death. I guess, for these people, I wasn't important. Like many before me, I was merely target practice.


End file.
